Cold and Dark
by Sidetic
Summary: Jack joins with Pitch in Antarctica. What goes together better than cold and dark? Fear and fun? Warnings- major character death and violence. Rated M to be on the safe side. Any offers for beta reading would be gratefully accepted.
1. Fragile Alliance

Author's notes: Hi there, this is my first ROTG fic, and the first story I have written in quite some time. I do not own Rise of the Guardians and any recognizable dialogue is from the film. Any offerings for beta reading would be gratefully accepted.

I hope you like it.

Warnings- Major character death. Violence.

Cold and Dark

_What goes together better than cold and dark?_

Chapter One- A Fragile Alliance

It had worked so well, better than he could have hoped. They had turned on the boy exactly as he had thought they would. Pitch emerged into the cold, though barely felt it. He was almost at home in it as much as Jack was; winter after all having the longest, darkest nights to rule over. The boy now stood in clear indecision on a chilly clifftop, their memories clasped tightly in hand. Only North would perhaps follow the ice spirit out here, but the Guardian of Wonder seemed disinclined to chase down their newest member after their collective spectacular failure at Easter. No doubt they had blamed Frost more than the Boogeyman himself for the broken eggs and shattered beliefs, though the boy had saved them all, save one, but recently.

Such short memories they had, ungrateful brutes.

He was not surprised, though. As long as _they _were believed in, what did any of the rest of the world's spirits matter? They had always been the same, the chosen, special few.

Selfish, unforgivably selfish.

Frost, however, perhaps he was different. The boy had never had a believer, not one, since the Moon had first created him. They had suffered in similar ways, but it was getting the ice sprite to see that, to _listen _and to understand that they were not so different. Ruling the world was a tantalising prospect, dancing atop it with a like-minded partner all the better.

It would be… fun.

Keeping his distance, the Nightmare King watched calmly as Jack's irritation grew, but the boy didn't discard the gift Pitch had given him, not yet.

"I thought this might happen," he spoke softly, just loud enough to be heard over the whistling wind, just loud enough to be heard over the suffocating shadows of a child's bedroom. "They never really believed in you; I was just trying to show you that." He had said that he was not going to hurt Jack after all, and had meant it. He had no grudge against the boy, would not unless Frost forced his hand. "But I understand."

The attack was expected, would have been his own reaction had their roles been reversed. Throwing up nightmare sand to protect himself, Pitch went on the defensive; a foreign kind of excitement spiralling through him. Standing at the edge of danger with spikes of hope at his back. Ducking, following the boy's swift movements, he allowed them their anger, as well as part of his own.

"You don't understand anything!"

Naïve, understandably so, but still foolish. The boy was too wrapped up in their own pain to immediately acknowledge anyone else's, but they were only young. Of course, it seemed to them that their agony was inconceivable.

"No?" He cast the incoming ice away with his hand. The Nightmare King would simply have to enlighten the young one. "I don't know what it's like to be cast out?" He threw sand, far less than he could have done, at the boy, a part of him delighting in how they matched each other point for point, move for move, despite the old hurt. The Guardians had come and taken everything with their light, scorning him and driving him deep into his own darkness…

It was a relief to have a playmate whom felt the same as he did.

Jack flew into the air and struck magnificently, their ice and sand meeting between them, and Pitch allowed himself to fall back into shadows momentarily, wanting to lure the boy back down.

"To not be believed in?" His voice echoed the sound of tinkling ice on the heels of the new Guardian. "To long for a family?" The Nightmare King emerged once more as the dust of their brief battle began to settle. Hope barbed him once more as Jack's pose relaxed somewhat, the boy's weapon lowering slightly. If he said the right words now, and he was so good at saying the right words…

"All those years in the shadows," an unfeigned angered, pained, grimace, "I thought, no one knows what this feels like, but now I see I was wrong. We don't have to be alone, Jack!" He moved closer, bending so as not to tower over the teenager. "I believe in you, and I know others will too."

"In me?" Pitch didn't know if he was being fanciful when he thought he heard his own hope echoed back at him.

"Yes!" Laughter, a dark, almost broken giggle. He put a hand on Jack's shoulder, gazing up at their creation with a gesture for the boy to do the same. "Look at what we can do." It was truly… beautiful. Better than any ugly thing to ever emerge from the Workshop or the Warren. A true work of art that captured the best parts of them both. How dangerous and exquisite they could be together. "What goes together better than cold and dark?" Excitement was getting the best of him now, running away with his tongue. "We can make them believe! We'll give them a world where everything, _everything, _is…"

"Pitch Black?"

The suspicious tone stopped him dead, a fist of ice through the chest. He recovered quickly. "And Jack Frost, too. They'll believe in both of us." He watched Jack's face go through countless emotions, and knew that he had miscalculated a moment before the ice sprite spoke again.

"No, they'll fear both of us-"

"They will love you," he interrupted swiftly with a raised hand, relief cresting through him when Jack fell silent once more, a spark going through the boy's eyes that the shadow wanted, needed, to grab onto. The Boogeyman forced down the eagerness which had been bubbling. He could still salvage this. There would not be a need to destroy Jack as long as he used this last chance carefully. "You can have their love, all of their love, while I feed off their fright. We can both have what we want, Jack. We can both be believed in. You can have your fun and I can have my fear. Our cold and dark already compliments each other so well, what is to stop our other aspects from doing so as well?"

Surely, Jack could see the possibilities?

"What is to stop _us? _We can have their belief equally." Even if it was in different ways. They could still be partners. "_I _do not mind sharing." A jab at the remaining members of the Big Four. They had always minded, even in regards to the other 'good' spirits whom existed. They might not have said so, but their actions spoke loud enough for them. "Not with you." A kindred spirit.

He extended a hand, silver eyes strangely unguarded, open in a way that in another creature might have spoken of vulnerability.

"Partners?"

"The children… You won't harm them?"

The last obstacle, Pitch could see it in those icy blue eyes. The love Jack might have been developing for the other Guardians had been killed, stone dead, with their thoughtless rejection. The love for the innocent children he played with each day, however…

"Of course not. I _need _them, Jack." If only as prey, he needed them. "And, I know, that you want them."

A brief, but final, hesitation; then the hand of ice met that of shadow.

A moment later, only a box filled with teeth lay upon the clifftop, and soon it was covered up with snow…

_Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it._


	2. Home

Author's notes: Hi there, this is my first ROTG fic, and the first story I have written in quite some time. I do not own Rise of the Guardians and any recognizable dialogue is from the film. Any offerings for beta reading would be gratefully accepted.

I hope you like it.

Warnings: Major character death. Violence.

Chapter Two- Home

Pitch's laughter rang out around them as they travelled through the shadows to his domain; the excitement which had faded coming flaring back with the ice spirit's agreement. As they landed on one of the many bridges, the Nightmare King twirled his new partner. With the Sandman gone, and Jack his ally, the Guardians could not stand against him. Easter was already no more, as were good dreams and the belief that little fairies would come in the night for teeth, and Christmas would soon follow.

It was _almost _over.

There were so few lights left on the globe. They might even go out by themselves, without any further interference. That would make the whole idea easier on Jack, Pitch was sure. The boy needn't get his hands dirty, not really. The Boogeyman had done all the unsavoury work for them both.

He simply needed to distract Jack until it was too late for the boy to go back on his decision, then they could discuss things in detail.

To do so, it was likely wise to spirit the ice sprite away from the trapped fairies until they had faded away. Jack had such _delicate sensibilities, _but he had agreed, and perhaps would outgrow such things with experience, and a guiding hand. Now that the young one was here; priorities would need to change. Pitch had intended to visit the Workshop and other previous Guardian strongholds to celebrate his coming victory, but now…

Golden eyes alighted on bright blue and the Nightmare King grinned.

A game. All he needed was a game.

Jack did have his staff, after all…

Pitch jumped elegantly onto the railing then, beckoning Jack in challenge to follow him, allowed himself to fall slowly backwards into the abyss with a peal of amusement. He had briefly thought of pushing the boy down first, but that would hardly inspire trust in his new ally. An invitation to be caught seemed far more appealing than the threat of being captured.

Shadows sprang to him, allowing him to control his fall, less of being through the air than being through water. This place was his, it would never allow him to come to harm, never…

Sure enough, Jack was hot on his heels, chasing him as they sank deeper and deeper into Pitch's realm, and away from anything the younger might find distressing.

Laughter followed laughter deep into the darkness, a cold hand grasping but just out of reach no matter how fast Frost sped. Out in the open skies, things might have been different, but Pitch's perception of reality here prevailed.

And he didn't want to be caught yet.

Not until everything was far out of sight, and hopefully out of the younger's mind.

An unknowable amount of time later, Pitch stopped dead, allowing Jack to fall into him. Embracing, shadows coiling protectively around them both, the Boogeyman tried and mostly failed to contain his glee. Why did he need to do so now? He had everything he wanted. Jack could not renege on their bargain now; Pitch wouldn't allow it.

"Got you!" Jack smiled down on the elder spirit, a sun's beam glowing in the gloom.

"Oh, I have been defeated! Whatever shall I do?" Pitch posed dramatically, then burst back into a fit of chuckles, echoed by the younger spirit above him.

Neither seemed inclined to release the other, nor to comment upon it.

They hung together, cocooned in the welcoming dark.

After a short while, Jack raised his head to gaze around him. When he had first been brought here, he had been tossed around like a ragdoll and tormented. The shadows, or rather Pitch himself, had played trick after trick on him, keeping him from the wrath the Nightmare King was inflicting on Easter. He blinked, smile weakening, and looked questioningly down at the Boogeyman. "You don't think… I'll make a mess of things for you?"

Pitch had seemed to take great delight in hammering that point home before evicting him from the lair last time they had been here together. The Nightmare King knew Jack's greatest fears well, as he had acutely demonstrated. Would their truce protect the ice sprite from having that knowledge used against him?

The Boogeyman cocked his head, eyes a gentle silver. "No," he answered simply, fingers dancing sand harmlessly over Jack's shoulder. "I think you will make things far more interesting."

"You didn't say that before." Despite the words, there was little accusation in the statement; more a young spirit's curiosity.

Pitch sighed, leaning back to gaze up at the fathomless ceiling. "I wanted you to understand the true nature of the Guardians, Jack. That you could only have been a disappointment to them, but not only you, young one, but they each to each other as well. Their petty arguing over which holiday was better, which of their qualities more important, which of them had the most believers, and who mattered most to the children." He made increasingly grand gestures with his hands as he rattled off the list, drops of irritation at the Guardians' ridiculous squabbles in his voice. "If they could not even acknowledge each other, how were they ever meant to allow anyone else to have even a fraction of what they had? Neither you nor I would ever have been good enough for them. I am meant to be stuck under children's beds, and you are meant to be unseen, and we are both meant to be unbelieved in. To them, we are both messes that need dealing with, and nothing more. Never anything more."

Tired resentment took some of the sting out of the words as the elder spoke, and his gaze went distant in thought.

_The Dark Ages… Oh, how wonderful those days had been. And so cruelly torn away from him._

A palmful of snow to the chest distracted him from his melancholy, drew his attention back to his new partner.

"I won't let them trap you under beds." Kind eyes, understanding eyes, stared into silver pools and Pitch felt his smile beginning to return.

"And I will ensure that you are believed in," he promised in return. "You will have nothing to fear."

All tinkling had ceased; the cages abruptly empty, and Pitch stared up at them with glowing, golden eyes. Two down, two to go, and they would follow soon enough. Shadows rose over the abandoned teeth and took them into the depths of his domain, to be locked away and forgotten about. Children did not need good memories to survive, not that they were often offered them even in the Guardians' Golden Age, they needed a healthy fear of what could truly harm them.

Arms outstretched, feeling the power of so many believers flowing through him, Pitch sighed in contentment as he did a slow spin beneath the hanging enclosures. A few feathers fell and faded before they could hit the ground. Gone, they were almost all gone. Those whom had so callously banished him, would now be cast out in their turn. Ahh, it was delicious… A predator's grin twisted his expression and the shadows darkened around him as if waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting child…

A snowflake landed on the tip of his nose, and his eyes blinked open as it melted in a brief flash of blue power to stare at the boy floating above him so closely that they were almost nose to nose.

His smile temporarily faded. Would Jack…?

A hand came down in offering, proving he need not have worried. Taking it, he allowed Jack to pull him into the air with him. Yes, yes it was about time they went outside once more.

The world was their playground now, they had best make good use of it.

_Thank you for reading._


	3. Nightmare

Chapter 3: Nightmare

Notes: Author's notes: Hi there, this is my first ROTG fic, and the first story I have written in quite some time. I do not own Rise of the Guardians and any recognizable dialogue is from the film. Any offerings for beta reading would be gratefully accepted.  
I hope you like it.

**Chapter Text**

Chapter Three- Nightmare

Spiralling through the cold air, Pitch listened to Jack's sounds of joy with fascination. While the ice sprite's loneliness had been almost palpable, it was clear that the younger had not had the time to develop the resentment that the Nightmare King had in his centuries of isolation. Or, perhaps, their different natures had prevented such animosity filling Jack's heart.

In any case, it intrigued him, as Jack had done since the death of the Sandman.

The power the boy had wielded had demonstrated why the Man in the Moon had chosen him as a new protector of children. He could match the Nightmare King in a way only Sanderson had managed before, and the creator of the Guardians must have realised that the golden man was not going to be enough this time. Jack Frost might even, as Pitch had thrilled at the time, potentially have been able to defeat him.

It had raised the stakes, kept things exciting.

It had stopped him from becoming complacent in the wake of the first Guardian's defeat.

Letting go of Jack's hand, for a few moments he fell through the night sky, before a Nightmare rose out of the dark to catch him. Riding his steed alongside the boy, Pitch paused in the full light of the Moon, and stepped off onto a pool of living shadows. With an inhale and exhale of power, he watched as his sand spread out as his counterpart's once had. It pulsated and swarmed from him through the air as sweet, adorable nightmares; he and his horse standing in the centre of the storm.

Sharks in the place of dolphins. Monsters instead of unicorns. Bugs and spiders, scorpions and snakes, ghouls and ghosts…

__Wonderful.__

He knelt and reached out, a trio of hornets climbing out of the mass to crawl over his hand. Bringing them up to his face with welcoming eyes, he crooned to them and caressed over their twitching backs. Made of his nightmare sand, they might be, but that didn't make them any less delightful. Indulging himself as Jack looped around a building to return to him, Pitch gently lowered his creations back into the stream, sounds of content spilling from his lips as other creatures wrapped around his grey skin and swam between his fingers.

Fear was fed into the line connecting him with the children, and was offered back to him threefold to devour as the young ones suffered in their sleep for him.

It was… It was…

Jack shouted for him- and wasn't it strange to hear someone calling his name because they __wanted to? __Wanted__him? - __soaring around his nightmare cloud as a blaze of winter wind more skilfully than any bird. "What were __those__?" Grim curiosity. A child looking at something unpleasant.

Pitch looked up to meet Jack's eyes, and swiftly straightened, enjoyment fading at the feeling of loss still gazing back at him.

Imperfect. It was imperfect.

He might be feared so much as to be bloated on belief, but Jack was not yet loved as he had promised, nor even seen. Gaze returning to and spanning over his creatures, Pitch selected a nearby window. "Japanese Giant Hornets," he answered distantly, golden eyes on his target. "Lovely, deadly creatures… Though, perhaps," he cocked his head, "I could bear for a few of my dear ones to be frozen by some bright hero." Pitch gestured widely with both hands, leaning back as though he were being threatened, though a grin teased at his lips. "A knight in cotton armour to save the day for a few of these precious children." The Boogeyman tapped his chin. "Do you know of anyone whom might be interested?"

No hesitation. No fear. "I'm in!"

They alighted in the bedroom of a young girl; no more than seven years old Pitch would say. She had tangled herself in her sheets, face a grimace of fear and tears trickling down her cheeks while she sniffled softly.

Her terror was sweeter than honey.

But he was going to have to give it up, for his new, and only, family member.

It was not as if he didn't have a veritable feast to gorge himself upon surrounding him. Leading Jack round one side of the bed, disliking the idea of having his back to the window, he positioned the ice sprite between him and the girl. Reaching out a hand, the Nightmare King took control of the monstrous rattlesnake chasing her, putting a restraining finger on its tail and chiding it when it turned to face him with a hiss of frustration…

"Now then," he breathed into Jack's ear, taking the younger spirit's fingers in his free hand and playing with them, "let us see if we can introduce your fun to my fear…"

Their cold and dark had gone so well together in Antarctica, surely, they could learn to merge their other powers as well?

Jack looked back and forth between the Boogeyman and the child, then down to their lightly touching fingers, giving a quick grin and nod. "How hard could it be?"

False bravado, but Pitch didn't comment upon it.

Ice and sand spilled from their fingertips, the former following the latter, and Pitch focussed to bring the two together so that they made…

Jack Frost.

Black sand with blue glowing fiercely around its edges, wielding a weapon more reminiscent of Pitch's scythe than Jack's staff, but it would suffice for a first attempt. Puppeteering the new figment, carefully manipulating the ice sprite's fingers as their digits worked together, the Nightmare King guided it towards the child's dream-self.

"It is your show now," he whispered to Jack as his own movements stopped, the boy they had created a couple of steps from the girl. He was not to be the protagonist in this little play. "Guide our hands to control the child's dream…"

It was hesitant at first, as the development of any new skill is, and it reminded Jack of his first few tentative steps on the frozen lake after his rebirth as the small version of himself stumbled falteringly forwards. But Pitch was patient, having had to go through this process himself when learning to control the Sandman's creations, and watched with eyes glowing bright enough to rival the Moon's radiance itself.

The dream-child giggled tentatively as her 'hero' almost fell flat on his face in front of her, and was soon laughing loudly as Jack, both versions, found their feet. The dream boy swept her up and flew away with her like she had once read Peter Pan had done so with his Wendy. The sound of her excitement soothed the ice sprite and returned the light of joy to his eyes that had dimmed when he had seen the child so upset.

Pitch counted down from three in Jack's ear, then released the, much humbled, snake, which was subsequently transformed into a block of solid ice by the tiny sprite puppet. For a short while, the dream-selves played together; flying, dancing, and throwing snowballs… And, as they did so, Pitch leaned over the younger spirit's shoulder to breathe their name into the girl's dream.

"Jack Frost," the Nightmare King half-sang to her, making her belief in the Boogeyman a gift for his ally. To share, of course.

As the dream ended, fading away, Jack turned eyes full of wonder on Pitch, a hopeful smile lighting up his face. "I… I did it!"

Pitch caressed a thumb over ice sprite's cheek, not minding, in fact rather enjoying, the cold. "That you did," he affirmed, effectively dismissing any questioning that had been in Jack's tone. Intertwining their hands properly, and turning Jack's upwards, the Nightmare King placed some of his sand in the boy's palm. "Practise makes perfect," he gestured to the window. "Go and have your fun. I wish to have some of my own…"

He needed to check whether the remaining Guardians were still around or not. And, if they were… It should be an easy enough matter.

"Pitch, wait…"

The Boogeyman paused, half in and half out of a shadow, turning to look back at the younger spirit. "Jack?"

"I… I liked Sandy, Pitch." The winter spirit cradled the sand as he had once done Baby Tooth. "He was the only one to… The only one not to…" Accept him and trust him. Not reject him…

For a moment, the Nightmare King stared at him, expression unreadable. "I will not apologise." Not after all the hurt and humiliation the little fool had put him through. They had deserved far, far worse than the quick end Pitch had granted them. His eyes hardened like cold steel. "I don't regret it." Surely… surely, Jack wouldn't, not now…?

"I know, I know. He hurt you, more than the others did." Sandy had invaded Pitch's domain twice over to end the Dark Ages, with light and dreams to combat darkness and nightmares, and taken everything from the shadow. Jack motioned with his staff in an attempt to calm the elder spirit. "I'm not asking you to. I just wanted you to know that he was... my friend."

Deafening, suffocating silence.

Pitch's fists clenched and he looked down, nodding sharply with a hissing intake of breath. "Duly noted. Have your fun, Frost."

And he was gone, back into his darkness.

Notes: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.


	4. A Mess of Things

Author's notes: Hi there, this is my first ROTG fic, and the first story I have written in quite some time. I do not own Rise of the Guardians and any recognizable dialogue is from the film. Any offerings for beta reading would be gratefully accepted.

I hope you like it.

Warnings- Major character death. Violence.

Chapter Four- A Mess of Things

_Jack, what you __**done**__?_

_You were with __**Pitch**__?_

_We should __**never**__ have trusted you!_

Jack sat atop a roof, fiddling with his staff. Accusatory voices beat at his mind and made him cringe as though they were physical blows. They had not given him a chance to explain, had immediately assumed the worst of him, and turned their backs on him. Cast him out.

_You make a __**mess**__ wherever you go…_

Pitch had not just been angry; he had been _hurt_, and perhaps jealous. Would he reject him now too? What if he didn't come back?

Ice danced from his staff, making elaborate patterns on the tiles beneath him that he took no notice of as he stared out into the night. He had tried to practise with the sand but been unable to focus enough to control it with his frost. Each time, it had simply fallen apart, melted warmly beneath his hands.

He couldn't do it. He had failed, gotten it all wrong, and…

"Jack…" Pitch emerged from the shadows to perch beside the ice sprite. The boy's fear had chased him insistently through the darkness until he could only be compelled to return in spite of not completing his goal. It was unique to Jack, and easily overwhelmed the taste of the nearby children's; like a too rich sauce over a plain dessert, it was sickly and too sweet to enjoy. Now that he was at the younger's side, though, he wasn't quite sure what to say. Giving reassurance… was not exactly his speciality, especially in a matter like this.

"I think," the Boogeyman spoke after a couple of moments, hands tapping on his bent knees, "that families… argue on occasion, don't they?" He didn't look at the younger spirit, instead his gaze followed theirs out over the horizon.

A ghost of a smile. "I think so, but I'm new at this game, you know?"

"As am I," Pitch hummed agreement, leaning back to lay against the roof. Jack slowly followed him so that they were side by side, shoulder to shoulder. For a while, they were silent in each other's company, before… The Boogeyman opened his mouth to speak, then swallowed hesitantly, his pride sticking in his throat. "I won't apologise for it... but it was regretful that you were caught in the crossfire."

"He took the night away from you," Jack gestured to the sky above their heads with a swing of his arm and staff, sending a spray of cold air out from them that briefly misted over the pair. "I get it, I do." Sandy had arguably done Pitch the most harm out of all of the Guardians. While Jack had not had belief in him, he had had equal ability in the day as he did in the night. Pitch, by his nature, had always been confined to the latter. "I'm not mad at you for taking it back. You need it. I'm not… I'm not mad at you, at all." Not anymore.

"Why not?" Pitch ignored the feeling that perhaps he should not push his luck, and pressed on. Better to get things out in the open now, than it to become the knife in his back later.

"Because he was the reason that you were alone and stuck. He made you feel how I've always felt. Alone, unseen… and unwanted. If someone had done that to me all these years, well…" A chuckle which carried no humour and a twirl of his staff. He had done similar things to a lesser degree; there was a reason he had held the record for the Naughty List. "Guess you're right. We do understand each other, huh?"

Pitch stared at Jack as though seeing him for the first time, a new curiosity in glittering, golden pools. A weight lifted from his shoulders, and he gave a long exhale. "Yes, yes, I believe we do."

"Did we just have our first fight?" The ice sprite's mischief returned to his eyes.

"A minor spat," Pitch waved it off, a similar expression growing in his own gaze, "I'm sure we'll have many more. And, I would hardly say it was our 'first' fight."

"Those don't count. We weren't family then." Jack nudged Pitch lightly with his shoulder and they both chuckled softly, relief heavy in the air between them.

"No, I guess not," the Nightmare King grinned, before sitting up with a slow sigh. "Now, I really must go. There is something I must do before daybreak." Or he would be pacing the lair like a caged tiger from dawn until dusk, not knowing if his enemies were in any position to solve their current predicament or not. Doubting that they were and knowing it were two vastly different things.

He had to keep them both safe until he had confirmed that both his, _their, _remaining foes had faded.

Jack arched an eyebrow up at him. "Didn't you say we were partners?"

Pitch blinked at the ice sprite. "I intend to-"

"I know! I know. You don't have to hide it from me." Jack pushed himself up as well, staff tapping on the roof lightly. "You did it before, back in the lair, with Tooth... I'm not a kid, ok? I don't need coddling."

"You…" A burst of surprised laughter, then the Nightmare King offered his hand once more, a shark's grin on his face. "Shall we, then?"

A moment in the shadows, hands entwined, and they appeared at the Pole, atop North's dormant globe.

No lights lit it, no yetis nor elves rushed about at its feet, no laughter rang out around it. A mess of half-finished toys littered the floors and work surfaces. Even the smells of Christmas seemed to have faded within the Workshop.

It was almost too quiet. Too easy.

Pitch didn't seem to notice that he hadn't let go of the winter sprite as he gazed around the room with predatory eyes, ready to leap them back into the darkness if need be. He hadn't checked here, yet. The Warren had seemed empty, though. Jack didn't possess his caution, however, and jumped from the structure with the Boogeyman in tow.

"Come on! Where's your sense of adventure?" the young one grinned cockily back at him, practically bouncing with eagerness to explore. He flicked a snowflake at the older spirit, blue power fluttering over Pitch's nose even as a shadow wrapped lightly around the boy's hand where their skin touched.

"Dead," the Nightmare King snarked back without malice. "The Guardians killed it long ago."

"You liar," Jack giggled, pushing through a set of double doors to lead them deeper into North's domain. "You seemed confident enough at the Tooth Palace." He let go of Pitch, turning to face the Boogeyman and continuing to walk backwards as he did a fair impression of the older spirit, hand gestures and all. "'Or what? You'll stick a quarter under my pillow?'." He held onto his sides as he half doubled over, face crinkling with amusement. "You know… you knew how to push all of their buttons, didn't you?" _And mine too._

"One of my many abilities," Pitch put his hands behind his back as he followed Jack's lead. "It rather goes hand in hand with knowing a person's deepest fears."

They made their way from room to room, Pitch gliding through the air with all the elegance and substance of a shadow, while Jack sprang confidently from surface to surface around him.

It was only when they started to go down to the lower levels that any signs of life became apparent. Hushed voices, familiar accents, conversing in a nearby chamber.

But only two, only two.

No jingles of bells or grunts of acknowledgement, just a pair of voices trapped in the dark, bereft of dreams and memories, and soon wonder and hope as well.

Jack paused, head tilting like that of a bird, and jumped from a nearby railing to Pitch's side. With an exchanged glance, they each took a door, and entered.

_Thank you for reading._


End file.
